


Jacket On

by winchestersinthedrift



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Character Bleed, Drunk Jared, M/M, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jensen kind of startles and feels his face go pink, maybe in embarrassment or maybe in something else, cause his cock just got a little more urgently interested. Didn’t see <i>that</i> coming. He narrows his eyes at Jared, who’s managed to get his buckle undone and is starting to laboriously drag Jensen’s jeans down.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>‘Jared,’ he says, making a point to keep his voice even, ‘you, uh…you into that?’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>‘What?’ says Jared, from really far up inside Jensen’s thighs, and his big hands are pushing Jensen’s legs a little apart. ‘Call me Sam OK?’</i>
</p>
<p>Things get a little character bleed-y after Jensen and Jared finish their fb live video for the fans. Jensen likes it more than he'd thought he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jacket On

No,’ says Jared, ‘leave that on. JensenJensenJen leave that on.’

Jensen pauses, arms shrugged halfway out of the sleeves. They’ve just come in off the balcony, still a little giggly and adrenaline-high from doing the live video.

‘What? the jacket?’

‘Yeeaaaah.’ Jared’s sitting sprawled out on the floor with his back against the wall, finishing his glass of whiskey and smiling so wide and open-faced that Jensen can’t help smiling back.

‘You want me to - leave the jacket on.’

‘Yup.’ Jared puts his glass on the ground, gets it level on the second try. He crawls a little forwards to where Jensen’s leaning up against the bed and kneels up to grab at his belt. ‘It’s just so _Dean_.’

Jensen kind of startles and feels his face go pink, maybe in embarrassment or maybe in something else, cause his cock just got a little more urgently interested. Didn’t see _that_ coming. He narrows his eyes at Jared, who’s managed to get his buckle undone and is starting to laboriously drag Jensen’s jeans down.

‘Jared,’ he says, making a point to keep his voice even, ‘you, uh…you into that?’

‘What?’ says Jared, from really far up inside Jensen’s thighs, and his big hands are pushing Jensen’s legs a little apart. ‘Call me Sam OK?’

‘Jesus Christ,’ says Jensen, fervently, ‘what the - Jare - Sam,’ he says, cautiously trying it out, when Jared glances up all doe-eyed and hopeful. ‘OK, listen, I think we’re - I think you’re - we shouldn’t just do this without - y’know -’

He’s starting to take off the jacket again, without thinking, when Jared sits up a little straighter and pushes him hard with both hands against his chest, back onto the bed, and says ‘I said leave it on.’ He stands at the foot of the bed and clumsily shucks off his jeans, almost tips over but grabs Jensen’s foot to steady himself, and Jensen almost starts laughing but then Jared’s straddling him, still in his AKF tshirt, and fisting his hands in either side of Jensen’s jacket. He pulls a little so his forearms flex and the jacket strains across Jensen’s back and lifts him just off the bed. ‘So hot like this,’ Jared says, breathless and whiskey-soaked vulnerable, bending close over Jensen’s face.

‘What? On my back?’ says Jensen, teasing automatically, cause his brain hasn’t quite caught up with what’s happening here.

‘Underneath your hungry little brother,’ says Jared, or maybe Sam, or what’s happening ohmygod. ‘Want your Sammy to hold you down and suck you off?’

‘Holy fuck,’ says Jensen, kind of wheezing, ‘oh my god.’

‘Say it,’ says Jared, kind of low and chuckly in his throat but flushed, mouth a little open. ‘Say it, Dean.’

Jensen isn’t doing this. This is just fucking _weird_ and it’ll make things weird on set and no this is just a terrible fucking idea. Jared would agree if he hadn’t had the last three fingers of whiskey in the bottle.

‘Yeah, Sammy,’ he says, Dean-deep, and he’s not sure if the judder under his ribs is horror or arousal but he’s definitely not going to think about it right now, especially not with Jared-Sam’s mouth already around his cock and his body swinging up and over Jensen in a kind of crab-crawl and - oh, shit, he’s actually - oh _fuck_. Jensen goes hard as iron and actually gasps so hard his whole chest hitches, cause Jared’s turned right around into a 69 position. His knees are on Jensen’s shoulders, pinning him down, and his hands are braced around Jensen’s shins just below the knee and his mouth hasn’t left, hasn’t stopped that soft merciless sucking. Jensen’s basically immobilised and he knows two things: he really likes the feel and scent of Jared’s balls dragging across his chest and Jared’s cock brushing wet and heavy across his sternum; and he’s gonna come really fucking fast, especially if Jared keeps saying ‘Dean’ around his cock.

He makes a weak lurch up to get his hand on Jared’s dick, but his shoulders are really fucking pinned and feeling that, testing the force of Jared holding him down sends another twist of heat right down his core.

Jared takes his mouth off Jensen’s dick long enough to say,

‘Know what my favourite thing is?’

Jensen just makes a helpless kind of noise in the back of his throat, but Jared doesn’t seem to need encouragement. When he talks his bottom lip drags across the head of Jensen’s dick.

‘Watchin’ you shoot guns. Th’way your fingers wrap around ‘em and your eyes jus’ go WHAM and- yeah. So fucking hot.’

Jensen isn’t sure what eyes going wham look like, exactly, and he’s a little dazed still by this whole thing, but without really meaning to he says

‘Thanks, Sam,’ and Jared-Sam hums appreciatively around his cock and that’s OK, yeah, that’s pretty ok.

‘Whaddaya like ‘bout me,’ says Jared, thickly, letting go of one of Jensen’s legs and pushing it bent up to the side so that Jensen’s all spread out and open. He pulls off Jensen’s dick for a second and scrabbles with one long arm down to where Jensen’s jeans are pooled on the floor. When he comes back up Jensen hears the pop of a lid and anticipation swims warm and twisting up his back.

‘Dean,’ says Jared, the question still in his voice, but Jensen doesn’t answer quite yet cause the first finger breaches him and he arches up, or tries to, hips pressed aching-hot into Jared’s chest, and the sensation of it surges up from his cock and fills the insides of his ribs, drags up his throat. For a minute he just breathes.

‘Looking across,’ he says, finally, a lot more clearly than he’d expected. He’s surprised he can enunciate at all with what Jared’s doing down there. ‘Just lookin’ across.’ _Car, motel room, scuzzy diner booth. Stage. Autograph table._ ‘Just - uh - seeing you there.’ He pauses a beat. ‘Sammy,’ he adds, really quiet, but Jared must have heard it cause his whole body tenses, knees forcing down hard into Jensen’s shoulders, fingers curling up hard inside him. Jensen drags in a breath.

‘Sam,’ he says, and it’s Dean’s voice now without him having to try, ‘come ‘ere, let me - wanna ride you in my jacket.’ He says it, and he’d thought he was saying it for Sam, but coming out of his mouth he finds out it’s the truth, he really does want to ride Jared wearing Dean’s jacket and Dean’s voice and face. Jared’s fingers stop moving and for a minute he’s just very still. Then he rolls over onto his back and lies there, sprawled out and loose, and Jensen sees that he didn’t say anything because he can’t, he’s in that zone Jensen has seen him in before, dozens of times, maybe hundreds of times, but it always knocks the breath out of him: Jared too aroused to form words, past coherence, even his muscles lax and reduced to involuntary movements. His boxers are still on and there’s sweat all down the centre of his chest and it’s like his whole face is fixed on Jensen’s, not just his eyes but the line of his jaw and his parted lips and the sweep of flush across his cheekbones.

‘Oh,’ he says, ‘ _oh_. Dean.’

‘I gotcha,’ says Jensen, a little unsteadily, straddles Jared’s thighs and hooks two fingers over the waistband of his boxers. The fabric is sticky with precome and when Jensen’s thumb brushes the top of his cock Jared makes a sort of raspy keen and thrashes his head sideways against the mattress and Jensen has to bite his lip hard to keep his shit together. He pulls Jared’s cock out, tugs the boxers down below his balls, and shifts up a little over his body. He can feel Jared twitching in his hand.

He sinks down in slow inches, breathe-breathe-relax-breathe, and under him Jared is hardly breathing - quick shallow panting breaths, long fingers dragging bonelessly against the sheet, tiny jerks of his hips and eyes closed tight. When he’s pressed right up against the curly hair at the root of Jared’s cock Jensen puts one hand on Jared’s hip and clenches all his muscles and says

‘How’s that, little brother?’

Jared actually yells, he fucking almost _wails_ and sits up in one motion, grabs Jensen with one big hand across the back of his head and pulls them together and ok, Jensen hadn’t seen that coming but he can get on board cause Jared’s kissing him now, not gentle like he’d done earlier that evening during the episode but so hard that it feels like his bones are pressing right through his face, all want and wet desperation, and he’s got a hand braced up behind him and is thrusting up into Jensen, quick hard little pumps.

‘Fuck,’ says Jensen-Dean, into Jared’s mouth, ‘fuck Sammy, fuck _fuck_.’ Jared doesn’t talk, just starts to thrust his tongue into Jensen’s mouth at the same rhythm as his hips are bucking. All their muscles in both their bodies tighten and lock and their movements get smaller and smaller till they’re hardly moving at all, just rocking and grunting against each other.

‘Next time I wanna fuck you in the car,’ says Jared, mumbly, and Jensen doesn’t know if he’s being Sam or Jared but he doesn’t care, he thinks about the wet throbbing length of Jared inside him and about the backseat of the impala, and makes a strangled punched-out noise and comes thick and hot between them. 

‘Yeah!’ says Jared, drunk and cute and satisfied, and bites his lower lip and comes so hard he tips right over and pulls Jensen over with him.

 

Jensen’s almost passed-out asleep, still in the jacket, when Jared rolls over so close that his nose is squished up against Jensen’s cheekbone.

‘Jen,’ he says, ‘guess what.’

‘What?’ says Jensen, a tiny bit grumpy but mostly not.

‘Y’know how I’m Sam Fucking Winchester,’ says Jared, with the seriousness of the very drunk.

‘Yeah,’ says Jensen. ‘I’ve heard once or twice, Jare.’

‘Well,’ Jared says, and giggles at his own joke, ‘you’re Dean Brotherfucking Winchester.’

Jensen manages to turn his laugh into a snort.

‘Jared,’ he says, fighting to keep a straight face, ‘you can never _never_ say that at a con. Or, like, ever.’

‘Mm-k,’ says Jared, rolling back over. ‘Night Dean.’

Jensen hesitates a beat.

‘Night, baby boy,’ he says, finally. True either way, like everything. Like them.


End file.
